


Chemical Reaction

by type_40_consulting_detective



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Decontamination shower, M/M, No Necrophillia, dead bodies, sex off screen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 12:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4179873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/type_40_consulting_detective/pseuds/type_40_consulting_detective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A caustic chemical sparks a reaction that no one could have expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chemical Reaction

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sherlock rareship bingo prompt Chemical

Sherlock swept into the morgue, coat flapping behind him from the speed of his walk. He was trying not to appear too eager, but he’d been waiting for the body to arrive. Must have left John upstairs the second his text message went off.

“Molly I need- You!” Instead of Molly alone beside the bloated corpse, Anderson was beside the young forensic tech with a folder of paper. “Not your lab, out.”

“It’’s my case, Sherlock, and I’ve been sent to ensure you don’t nick important evidence. Again.”

Molly looks over at Sherlock apologetically, but her hands were tied in this one, Right there in black and white, Phillip Anderson is to collect all evidence and reports.

“Then I’d best get my look before you touch anything.” Sherlock pulled off his ever present belstaff wool coat and snapped on latex gloves.

“You’ll keep yourself to the side until the professionals are done, Sherlock. You’re deductions are no good if you muck it all up and we can’t convict.” Anderson didn’t look up, just kept setting out his supplies to gather what they needed for forensics.

“And if you don’t have my deduction, you haven’t a clue either way. Honestly Anderson, just stop talking.” Sherlock pulled out his own kit, and grabbed a few capped test tubes from a table to aid in his collection

“Guys, something’s not right.” Molly moves back to her desk, checking over the report on the scene before deciding her strategy. The body is too far swollen for the time of death, but the timeline is iron clad. While she’s looking up a few details on the computer, the squabbling has moved into Anderson shoving Sherlock, and Sherlock shoving him back. Both of the grapple, falling against the body.

The sight as well as smell shouldn’t be funny, and it’s no respectful way to treat a person, but Molly can’t help but but laugh when both of the men are now covered in offal and stink, spluttering but otherwise silent with shock. 

“Cause of death is most likely ingestion of caustic chemicals. Decontamination Shower.”

Both men look at each other for too long a moment, and Molly snaps. “Now”

They scramble for the single shower station, still bickering and fighting, shoving each other out of the spray of water as Molly draws the curtain around them to prevent splashing outside of the containment area. Both of them know the protocol, but Molly is still a bit shocked to see shoes kicked off and trousers hitting the shower floor. 

John finally makes his way down, the smell hitting him like a wall and he stumbles back. Molly snatches up her purse and walks out of the morgue, shutting the door with both of them in the hall. 

“That’s Sherlock in the shower? What did he touch now?”

“Sherlock and Anderson made a corpse explode.” Molly turns, headed away to the elevator.

“So you’re just leaving them in there. Alone?”

“Do you want to get in the middle of that fight?” John makes a disgusted face and nods. “I’m going up for a coffee. It all ought to be settled in twenty.”

When she’d enjoyed her coffee and scone, and it had been about 20 minutes, Molly made her way back down to survey the damage. More than likely a fist fight, not the first time, but neither was likely to have murdered the other, so she wasn’t bothered. One peak at a red faced John in the hall and another in the window told a very different story, however.

From the door, all that could be seen was the shut curtain over the containment stall to one side, and the frosted glass wall of it. Against the wall was a form, dark haired head leaned back on to it and arse leaving imprint. A sudden, throaty, and unmistakable moan had Molly jumping back before she could determine who was where, but it didn’t seem to matter one way or another. She didn’t meet eyes with John, but there was a silent understanding that neither wanted to get in the middle of that either.


End file.
